Drink Deep the Cup of Life
by Zana Zira
Summary: Coffee-shop AU (Destiel). Barista!Castiel, Mechanic!Dean. "The first time Castiel Novak ever saw Dean Winchester was on a Thursday morning in the middle of February..." Or, in which Dean decides to visit a tiny local coffee shop that Sam is always bugging him about, and it proves to be one of the best decisions he's ever made in his life. Some angst, but overall a happy fic. Enjoy!


**Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are the property of Eric Kripke. Sadly, I do not own any of these guys.**

**A/N: This is the very first true AU I've ever done, so I hope it turned out alright. I've always thought the idea of Cas working in a coffee-shop seemed to fit him somehow, so I decided to experiment with that idea, and this behemoth of a one-shot was born. ;) I hope you all enjoy it!**

**Also, for anyone who is interested, please check out the poll on my profile page. I'm holding a vote to see what genre of fics you all most like to see me write, and I'll be taking the results and trying to write a lot more of whichever one gets the most votes.**

* * *

The first time Castiel Novak ever saw Dean Winchester was on a Thursday morning in the middle of February, the day after a fresh snow had fallen over the city of Lawrence, Kansas.

It was a little after six-o'clock in the morning, and he had just opened the doors of his coffee-shop an hour ago, but already the line was getting long; it didn't help that this was one of only two dedicated coffee-shops in Lawrence, and his older brother Gabriel wasn't able to help today since he was home sick with the flu. At least his sister Anna was there, because otherwise there would have been no way for him to interact with the customers between orders the way he always loved to do.

One of Castiel's favorite things about this job was getting to talk to people, and since Anna had never been very social, she was usually more than happy to allow him to do so, staying in the background and making the orders while he chatted up their patrons. People had always opened up to Castiel more easily than either of his siblings. Maybe it was because he was the baby of the family and he'd always been a little bit naïve, or maybe it was his gentle smile and the way his bright blue eyes could look like they were staring almost into a person's soul. But whatever the reason, people tended to confide in the charming barista, often telling him – a perfect stranger – things they didn't even tell their closest family members. And he let them, glad to do whatever he could to make their day a little brighter.

Anna, Castiel, and Gabriel had inherited this small place when their mother, Naomi, had unexpectedly passed away five years before, and in that time they'd managed to pool their resources and turn the tiny, run-down diner into a thriving business that satisfied the coffee cravings of Lawrence's citizens for ten hours of every day. Usually that was a good thing, but when there were only three employees and one was out sick, things tended to get crazy.

"Thank you, have a nice morning!" Castiel said to his latest customer as he handed them their caramel macchiato and put the sales receipt into the drawer beneath the register. Business was booming this morning, and despite the fact that Gabriel wasn't here and he was finding it necessary to run around like a chicken with its head cut off just to keep up, Castiel was in a cheerful mood. So when he looked up from the register, preparing to take the next customer's order, he already had a warm smile stretched across his lips – a smile that abruptly fell into a surprised "o" when he caught sight of the person across the counter.

The man standing before him was, for lack of a better word, beautiful. His chocolate-brown hair was short and spiky, drawing attention to the face beneath it rather than trying to hide it away. Deep green eyes sparkled above cheeks flushed pink from the cold, still dotted with tiny freckles where the sun had kissed them in the summer, and the stubble that grew along his jaw made him look handsome and rugged. His lips were full and soft, pale pink and slightly pouted, and they curled upward at the corners in a smirk when their owner noticed Castiel's expression.

"See something you like?" he asked, his voice low and teasing, and Castiel hurriedly snapped to attention, shaking his head to try and clear it.

"Sorry, sorry," he muttered, smiling and willing himself to look Mr. Beautiful in the eyes without blushing. "What can I get for you?"

"Y'know, I'm actually not sure," the man said with an apologetic chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at the menu board on the wall behind the counter. "My brother comes in here all the time with his girlfriend, and he's been bugging me to try it for ages, but all those coffee names might as well be written in Chinese for all I understand them."

"Hmm, okay then, umm…"

"Dean," the man supplied. "Dean Winchester."

"Castiel Novak," the barista returned with a smile. "Alright then, Dean. First, do you usually put a lot of cream or sugar in your coffee?" He had momentarily forgotten his attraction to the guy in front of him and was now in complete customer-service mode, because if there was one thing he knew how to help people with, it was coffee. He motioned for Anna to go ahead and take the next customer's order while he stepped aside, wanting to make sure that he had as much time as necessary to solve Dean's dilemma.

"Nah, only a little. I drink it almost black most days."

"Okay, so then I'd say lattes are definitely out for you. That's a shame, really, because they're awfully good. Anyway, do you drink it because you like the taste, or because you need the caffeine?"

"Caffeine, definitely, but it needs to taste good too," the man answered emphatically.

"Okay, well, how about we try you with a Red-Eye then? It's not too complicated, just hazelnut coffee with a shot of espresso. And since it's your first time here, you don't have to pay if you don't like it."

"You offer that to all your customers?" Dean asked.

"Only the pretty ones," Castiel answered, laughing when he saw Dean's eyes widen slightly. He turned around and started adding the coffee grounds into the percolator, adjusting a couple of knobs and switches before he turned back toward Dean.

"So you said your brother and his girlfriend come in here all the time. What do they look like? I probably know them."

"I bet you do. They're kind of an odd couple, little blonde cheerleader-looking girl next to a six-foot-four giant with shaggy brown hair?"

"Oh, okay! I do see them often, almost every day. Their names are Sam and Jessica, right?" Dean nodded in response. "Your brother really seems to know his coffee – he orders things like the caramel macchiato and café au lait every time he comes in, even though most guys just ask for 'coffee' when they come in here with their girlfriends."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, as much as he knows about this frou-frou stuff, you'd think he was the gay one instead of me."

Castiel's heart felt like it might stop for a moment before it started jumping around in his chest. "You… you're gay?"

"I know, I don't look it, right?" Dean asked with a cheeky grin that bared all of his straight white teeth. "But yeah. Never been interested in a girl in my life."

"Huh. No, I wouldn't have guessed that," Castiel said. He wasn't sure what else to say about the issue, or if he even _should_ say anything else, and so he hurriedly changed the subject in spite of the fact that he felt like he could start jumping for joy at that moment. "So what do you and your family do for a living, Dean?"

"Well, I work over at Singer Auto Repair with my uncle, Bobby Singer. I'm not good for much as far as book-smarts, never really liked school, but I can fix just about anything that might be wrong with a car. Plus, Bobby hasn't been feeling so great lately, so he lets me run the shop solo most of the time these days.

"Sam just got his law degree from Stanford, and he's working for a law firm here in Lawrence until he can get enough money and experience to start his own. He met Jessica at Stanford, actually, and she just graduated with a degree in medicine; she's working over at the hospital here to finish out her residency, and then she wants to open a pediatric clinic."

"And your parents?"

Dean's face fell a little. "Both dead. I pretty much raised Sam until by myself until I was almost ten, and then we moved in with Bobby. Our mom, Mary, died in a house fire when I was four – Sam was only six months old, so he doesn't remember any of it – and our dad John ended up drinking himself to death because of it when I was fifteen. We'd both been living with Bobby for a while even before that, though, and we stayed with him until I was old enough to get a place of my own and Sam left for college."

"I'm so sorry," Castiel said softly, feeling genuinely bad about bringing that dull, sad shine into those beautiful green eyes. "I shouldn't have pried. It's none of my business."

"Hey, no worries. It was a long time ago." With a puzzled expression on his face, he added, "It's weird, though. Usually I don't just blurt out my whole life story to someone I've just met."

"Oh?" Castiel tried to act surprised, but he wasn't really. He seemed to have that effect on people all the time, for whatever reason. In this case, though, he was certainly not about to complain. The more he could learn about Dean Winchester, the better.

"Yeah. Must just be something about you I trust," Dean mused. He looked over the barista's shoulder, eyebrows rising slightly. "And uh, not to change the subject or anything, but I think the coffee might be a little past done."

"Oh no!" Castiel exclaimed when he looked behind him and saw the way the coffee pot had become so full that it had started flowing onto the countertop. "Hot, hot, hot…" he muttered as he picked the pot up and set it on a clean towel, mopping up the spilled coffee with a rag and turning off the machine before it could leak any more onto the surface. He poured some of the coffee into a large mug, adding a shot of espresso before wiping the sides clean with a brown rag and setting it down on a small saucer.

He smiled warmly at Dean. "Thanks for that. I guess I got a little distracted."

"No problem, Cas," Dean said as he picked up the saucer to sniff the contents of the cup.

"Cas?" the barista repeated, surprised by the nickname. The only person who ever called him anything but his birth name was his friend Balthazar, and then it was only to mock him by calling him "Cassie."

"Oh, sorry," Dean said hurriedly, almost dropping his coffee before he set it down on the counter again. "I meant to say 'Castiel' and it just came out wrong –"

"It's okay," Castiel cut in. "You can call me 'Cas' if you like. No one's ever given me a nickname before. It's kind of nice."

"Okay. Cas it is, then." He looked down at his mug, which was still sitting on the counter between them. "I'd better go find a table and try this now, before it gets cold. It was nice to meet you."

"You too, Dean. And let me know if that isn't to your taste."

"Sure thing."

Dean disappeared around the corner to one of the back tables, and Castiel was soon swamped with another wave of early-morning patrons. He must have finished his coffee very quickly after that, because he was gone by the time the line thinned out ten minutes later, and Castiel never even saw him leave. The barista sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat when he realized the other man had left without saying goodbye, and hoped he hadn't come on too strong and scared Dean away forever.

But when he went to pick up the cup and saucer from the table, he was pleasantly surprised to find a five-dollar tip beside the completely empty mug; evidently the coffee had been good. And underneath, hastily scrawled on one corner of a napkin, was a small note:

_"See you tomorrow. – Dean"_

Castiel smiled, wiping the table down and folding the note up to put in his pocket.

"You sure will."

Dean returned early the next morning as promised, and this time the first thing Castiel did was try and convince him to taste a cafe latte. He had spent the night concocting a plan for how to get the other man to agree to a date with him, getting Anna in on it as well, and the first step in that plan was getting him to trust Castiel's judgment and try something new. If that didn't work, it would be back to the drawing board all over again.

Dean knew that lattes were a lot sweeter than his usual fare, and he was hesitant at first, but after a few moments he just shrugged and said, "Ah, sure, what the hell. You're the expert here."

"Great. Go pick out a table, and I'll bring it over as soon as it's ready."

Dean nodded and went to scope out a seat close to the window so he could look out at the shining white snow, and Castiel hurriedly went about implementing his plan, setting some milk up to steam so he could mix it into a perfectly light, frothy, smooth latte that even the most discerning taste buds would have no choice but to love. Once the milk was mixed in evenly he added a bit to the top, waiting until it had settled into a thin sheet across the surface of the liquid before retrieving a small bottle of chocolate sauce for the drizzle.

He carefully brought the finished product over to Dean, setting it gently on the table and then smiling softly as he gave an exaggerated bow. "Enjoy your drink, sir."

Dean chuckled. "Thanks, Cas."

Castiel quickly strode away, and once he was sure that he was out of Dean's sight he leaned his head against the wall, breathing deeply as the nervous pounding of his heart started to make him dizzy. In a show of boldness he had not thought himself capable of until now, the barista had written his own phone number and the words _"Call me?"_ in chocolate across the top of the drink, and now it took all of his willpower not to keep looking over at Dean's table to see what his reaction would be. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stand it if Dean blew him off; it had only been two days and already Castiel was completely head-over-heels for the man with the pretty green eyes.

During the time he was lost in a daze, Dean somehow managed to sneak out without his noticing again, and Castiel's heart thudded against his ribcage as he approached the table where the mug once again sat empty on the saucer. And when he picked the dishes up, he once again saw a small napkin underneath, this time folded into a neat square so it had been completely hidden. Hands shaking, he unfolded the napkin, letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding when he again found a note:

_"Would you like to have lunch with me sometime? 1-866-907-3235. Until tomorrow! – Dean"_

* * *

Dean soon became a regular customer at the coffee-house, stopping by every morning on his way to work and trying whatever drink Castiel suggested for him. He ended up liking most of them too, and soon found out he was actually a fan of hot green tea, a fact which immediately endeared him to Castiel even more. Castiel also made more than one trip out to Singer Salvage, becoming well-acquainted with Dean's uncle, Bobby Singer, thanks to the fact that his old clunker of a car seemed to love breaking down on him as often as it possibly could.

The two of them also went on frequent lunch dates and called and texted each other back and forth, sometimes letting off steam about the things in their lives that were bothering them and other times just chatting about nothing for hours. The conversations weren't really important; it was hearing the sound of the other's voice, not the subject of the discussion, that always brought each of them comfort.

As the weeks passed and winter changed to summer, they grew much closer, enough to be much more than friends but not quite enough to be lovers. Castiel wanted more than friendship, of course – he'd wanted more than that from the beginning – but he was also content to let Dean set the pace. As long as he got to see the mechanic every day, got to talk and smile with him and make him laugh, then he was happy. When they were both ready, he knew things would work themselves out.

Then one day in the middle of June, Dean didn't show up for his morning cup of coffee. He had never forgotten before, but Castiel wasn't too concerned. From what the young mechanic had told him, things at Singer Auto had been very busy lately, since Bobby had gotten sick enough to need to stay in the hospital and had just been released three weeks ago to recover at home. That left Dean in charge most days, and it wouldn't surprise Castiel if today he simply hadn't been able to leave the shop.

But when three days had passed with no sign of his friend, Castiel began to worry. It wasn't at all like Dean not to show up, especially for three days in a row, and even if something had come up, he would have at least called or sent a text. Something was very wrong, and when the clock struck noon on the fourth morning and Dean still hadn't shown up, Castiel couldn't stand it any longer. He picked up his cell phone and dialed Dean's number, holding it tight against his ear and listening as it rang once… twice… three times…

"Come on, Dean, pick up…" he muttered, worry causing the hand gripping his phone to shake.

On the fifth ring, just as he was about to hang up and send a text instead, he finally heard a tiny click, and then Dean's voice could be heard through the phone.

_"Cas…?"_

"Dean, I haven't seen or heard from you in four days. Are you just busy lately, or have I done something wrong?" He couldn't help the slight frostiness that crept into his voice with the questions; worry tended to make him sound harsher than he meant to.

_"No, you didn't do anything… I just…"_

Castiel froze, shocked by the noticeable quiet tremble in Dean's usually loud and confident voice; it sounded almost like he was holding back tears.

"Dean, what happened? What's wrong?" he asked softly.

There was silence on the other end for several long moments, and then Dean stammered out, _"It's… it's Bobby, Cas, h-he's gone! He d–"_ He stopped for a moment to clear his throat before he could speak again. _"He died Saturday night, and the f-funeral was this morning…"_

Castiel's blood ran cold. Before he even knew what he was doing, he had slipped his work apron over his head, throwing it carelessly onto a hook and snatching his car keys out from under the counter.

"Dean, I'm on my way over there now," he said calmly, mouthing to Anna and Gabriel that he was leaving and not to wait up. "Text me your address, okay? I'll be right over."

He waited a moment for the text to come through and then programmed the address into his phone's GPS, driving as fast as he could possibly go without running the risk of being pulled over. He pulled into a parking space in front of Dean's building less than ten minutes later, getting out and jogging up the stairs to reach room 241 on the second level. He tried the doorknob and was surprised to find it unlocked, so he went ahead and let himself in.

As soon as he entered he spotted Dean, sitting as still as a statue on a leather couch near the door with what looked like an old photo album lying across his lap. Castiel quietly shut and locked the door, striding over and sitting down on the couch beside Dean. The green-eyed man wordlessly handed the book over to him, not lifting his head as he waited for him to look at it.

Inside the album, which was really more of a scrapbook, were pictures of all shapes and sizes, and every single one of them depicted either Dean, Sam, or both of them with Bobby Singer at various points in their lives. There were pictures of Dean's and Sam's graduations, Bobby beside them and grinning proudly as they held up their high-school diplomas; Dean at twelve or thirteen years old, getting a hug from Bobby after winning a little league tournament; Sam, wearing a soccer uniform, sitting in a hospital bed while Bobby signed the plaster cast covering a broken leg.

Seeing these pictures, it was obvious to Castiel that Bobby Singer had been the father they always needed, the one that John never was for them. He had been the glue that held the Winchester family together, and now that he was gone, Dean must have felt completely lost.

Castiel closed the book and set it gently on the coffee table, turning toward Dean and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Dean…"

As soon as those words were spoken Dean seemed almost to deflate, the rigidity and tension leaving his body as he leaned toward Castiel and broke down into sobs. The brunet opened up his arms and gathered him into an embrace, guiding Dean's head to his shoulder and running his fingers through the short, spiky hair as he rocked and shushed him and let him release the grief he hadn't been able to let himself show to Sam.

"It's going to be okay, I've got you," Castiel murmured, carding one hand through Dean's hair and rubbing circles on his back with the other. "Everything's going to be okay…"

"H-how… can it be ok-kay?" Dean whispered, beginning to tremble as he tried to force back his tears enough to speak. "Bobby's g-gone, Cas, h-he's gone! And I can't a-ask Sammy f-for help, he's hur-ting too! H-ow am I supposed t-to –"

"Shh, shh, I know…" Castiel cut in, hugging Dean a little closer to him. "I know it's hard, and I know it's painful. My siblings and I had to deal with this when we lost our mother five years ago. It hurts, and it feels like nothing will ever feel right again, but trust me when I say that it _does_ get better. And don't forget that I'm always here for you, too. Even if you just need someone to talk to in the middle of the night or a shoulder to cry on once in a while, I'll always be here. You don't have to carry everything by yourself anymore."

Dean was silent for a moment, and then he pulled away from the embrace, looking up at Castiel with red, shining eyes. "I…" he whispered, biting his lip as he fought to make the words come out. "I think… I'm in love with you, Cas. I think I've been in love with you for a long time."

"I know," Castiel said with a gentle smile, leaning in and pressing his slightly chapped lips against Dean's plump, soft ones in a quick, chaste kiss. When they parted he took Dean's face in his hands, using the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the tears from his freckled cheeks. "I've been in love with you since the day you first walked into my life."

Dean chuckled, the sound still strained and somewhat bitter, before stifling a weary yawn.

"Well then I guess we've been wasting a lot of time beating around the bush, huh?" he asked sleepily.

Castiel shook his head and kissed Dean's temple. "Sleep now, Dean. You look exhausted. I'll still be here when you wake up."

"Mmhmm," Dean mumbled, curling up on his side with his head pillowed in Castiel's lap. "Love you, Cas…"

"I love you, too."

The two of them stayed like that through most of the afternoon and evening, Castiel keeping close watch over Dean as he slept off the exhaustion caused by releasing so much grief at once. At around ten o'clock that night, the brunet felt Dean beginning to stir ever so slightly and silently rose from the couch, making his way over to the mechanic's kitchen to see what he might be able to make for him and brighten his evening just slightly. To his relief, he found a functioning coffee pot and a well-stocked liquor cabinet, and by the time Dean opened his eyes and sat up, Castiel was just setting a mug of Irish coffee on the table in front of him.

"Nnnh, Cas? What's that?" he asked blearily, rubbing his eyes and then reaching for the mug so he could take a sip. He blinked a couple of times and took another sip, raising an eyebrow in lieu of actually asking anything about it.

Castiel shrugged. "Sometimes, the best thing in the world to help yourself feel better is a nice strong drink. And adding coffee just makes it that much better, if you ask me."

Dean nodded, giving the blue-eyed man a weak smile and lifting his cup in agreement. "Amen to that."

And by the time their cups were emptied out a few minutes later, Dean wasn't the only one left feeling a lot better than before.

* * *

After the night of Bobby's funeral, Dean and Castiel became closer than they ever had before, graduating from great friends to devoted lovers almost overnight. Castiel was surprisingly adamant about celebrating Bobby's life rather than grieving his passing, and so for the next week they drank an Irish coffee together every night, Dean reminiscing about all the fun times he and Sam had had with their foster-father and Castiel listening intently to each and every story, until suddenly Dean found that it didn't hurt to talk about Bobby the way it had only a week before.

Over time it became a sort of ritual for Castiel to make them a new type of coffee after every significant event in their lives, not just during the hard times. In some strange way, it was Castiel's method of expressing emotion, happiness or sadness, and the way he celebrated every part of life with coffee, which seemed so simple and mundane at first glance, was a truly eye-opening experience for Dean.

The first time they made love, Cas made them both chocolate mocha frappes at breakfast, trying to capture some of the sickeningly sweet emotions they were both feeling the next day upon waking up in each other's arms.

When Sam and Jessica got engaged in the fall, he made everyone caramel macchiato, Sam's favorite item to order from the shop, in celebration.

In late November they married and moved away to a small town in Colorado, and although Dean was happy for them it was obvious he would miss his brother terribly. That night Cas made them both espresso Guillermo, the combination of cream and lime with the coffee making it both bitter and sweet.

On Dean's birthday they drank cappuccinos, warm and cozy as they stayed inside to avoid the cold, and on Castiel's birthday it was chai lattes, cool and refreshing in the summer heat. Every day was a different flavor, a new reason to find something to celebrate. Being with Castiel had brightened Dean's life up more than he could ever have imagined – and now he was about to return the favor.

After spending so much time with Castiel, he had long since learned how to work the machines in the coffee shop, just like Cas was now learning how to perform some basic maintenance and repairs on his car. Right before Castiel came in that morning, Dean was already hard at work, having talked to Gabriel a week before and gotten permission to borrow a key and let himself in.

He was just finishing up his steamed-milk masterpiece when Cas walked in, and Dean grinned at the look of surprise on the brunet's face as he came in to see his lover already there.

"Dean! What are you doing here so early?" he asked as he took off his coat and folded it into a cubby near the office door in the back. "I thought you were supposed to be opening up at work this morning?"

"Yeah, I was, but first I wanted to try out a new recipe I've been working on. Would you mind taste-testing it for me?"

Castiel blinked and then smiled, nodding enthusiastically. "Sure. I'll give it a try."

"Okay." Dean smiled and reached for the cup behind him, holding it at an angle that wouldn't allow Castiel to see it until he had taken it into his hands. When he did, the blue-eyed man gasped and almost dropped it onto the floor, barely managing to set it on the counter before he sank to his knees on the tile.

On the top layer of steamed milk, written neatly in chocolate sauce, were the words: _"Marry me?"_

"Whoa, you okay?" Dean asked, holding out his hand and pulling him back to his feet. A second later he launched himself at Dean, wrapping his arms tight around his back and kissing him on one cheek, then the other as he wept with happiness.

"So, uh, I take it that's a yes, then?" Dean asked, watching his lover's reaction with an amused smile.

Castiel nodded quickly, hugging him tight again and kissing him hard before pulling away and wiping at his eyes. Then he dashed around the corner and out of sight, and Dean could hear some rustling before he came back with a folded-up napkin, handing it over so Dean could unfold it and read the message inside:

_"I thought you'd never ask."_

* * *

_ "Drink deep the cup of life;_

_Take its dark wine into your soul,_

_For it passes round the table only once."_

– Marcia Tolbert, _Centauri Days_, 3111 C.E.


End file.
